


Masochist

by NekoPanda



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crush, F/F, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7927792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoPanda/pseuds/NekoPanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe breezed away into another aisle and I idly followed. Watching the simple flex and curvature of her thighs and calves. My feelings towards the mayors daughter were... complicated. Maybe I was a masochist...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masochist

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in a LONG while, dedicated to the Miraculous Ladybug fandom. Without it, I don't know where I would have gotten the motivation to write again. I'd also like to send out a HUGE thank you to Plekleyostrich for being the best beta I could ask for.  
> Happy 1 year anniversary of Miraculous Ladybug!

I held a skirt up to my hips and pulled a face, watching my best friend shake her head and dejectedly placing the skirt back onto its respective shelf. Chloe wrapped a scarf around her thin neck, I gave her two thumbs up and an enthusiastic nod. Honestly, that girl could wear garbage and make it look good. (Everyone knows blue eyeshadow is hard to pull off, but that girl does it to a T!)

I wiped my clammy hands against my leggings and gripped the hem of my shorts. Mellow music and soft chatter of high profile individuals mingled together into a gentle murmur. Blonde hair fell over a delicate shoulder as a bright honeycomb yellow jacket was shrugged off. Rushing forward I held the warm wool fabric within shaking fingers, pressing the palm of my hand against the soft silk interior. I placed the lightweight material over the curve of my arm, and helped Chloe wiggle into another blazer.

A light, delicate pink chiffon fabric slid up slender pale arms. Hugging around squared shoulders and resting snugly against a slim waist. The deep purple stitches accentuated a lithe figure, slightly wider hips, and a perky bust.

I felt heat gently prickle underneath my cheeks and rest firmly atop my cheekbones and ears. Deep purple was my favorite color and now it was adorned upon my favorite person. The pads of my fingers brushed against her pulse point as I reached out to straighten the collar of the expensive fabric. More than I could even dream to afford. Wrapped like a bow around a person who was worth more to me than all the money in the world.

Her smile glittered like diamonds, her blue eyes sparkled like the brightest sapphire, and soft lips pursed every time she thought or smiled in that way that made me weak at the knees. Chloe Bourgeois was an idol. A queen. She was absolutely irreplaceable.

I bit my lip as I studied her, ready to give her my undying support within seconds of her glancing my way. She studied herself in the storeroom mirror, twisting and turning to witness every single angle. How the fabric held her perfectly. Arms stretched up and rested behind her head as she observed the fabric grip her tighter, her classic black and white striped shirt rising up ever so slightly. Kissing the soft skin of her toned stomach, caressing the faint shadow of a V leading from her hips to only God knows where.

Pale pink lips smiled at me and my heart jumped, rubbing my thumb against my forefinger, my eyes softened and I giggled. As beautiful as always. Chloe really looked great in every color under the sun. Even the most vibrant color would be outshone by the beauty of her pure personality.

My feelings towards the Mayors daughter were... complicated. We’ve always been close friends since we were little, but as long as I’ve known her she has considered Adrien to be her best friend. The way that Chloe looked at Adrien gave me a feeling deep within my stomach. The yogurt I consumed for breakfast curdled within the confines of my intestines. Nobody else saw the passion she had for that boy, that cowardly model. He was obviously denying his feelings for the beautiful blonde. No one else in the world could possibly love Adrien as much as Chloe does. The thought made me absolutely sick. It gave me a raw feeling deep within my gut.

Every time I was away from Chloe I tried my best to explain my feelings to myself. To give myself an explanation for the way my body reacted to her being near. The way my body reacted to her showing affection to others. Of course, that didn’t happen often. Chloe isn’t as expressive as she wants to be, not positively anyways. But when that affection did rear its nasty love-struck head, it hurt. My heart would beat to a quicker tempo. My breathing would become much harsher and sometimes my eye would give one solitary twitch. But I remained calm. I remained the ever loyal wingman.

My feelings aren’t hard to place. I had heard of the symptoms before. Girls would gossip and giggle about the boys during gym class. Watching the herd of prepubescent boys trotting along the football field. I'd heard my fair share of love-struck and lusting feelings and stories. I'd even tried for an extended period of time to try to focus those same feelings into a male figure in my life. College held its abundance of boys my age. Boys who were "easy on the eyes" or "packing and ripped", but they were simply unappealing.

Adrien "alluring" Agreste was attractive, yes. But he was so highly coveted and honestly, who wants to be one of hundreds who has next to no chance with him. Everyone knew Chloe was pining for his affections, and who could ever win him over other than her? Adrien was obviously secretly head over heels for her. Who else would Adrien be attracted to, Marinette? With that level of rivalry to keep on my radar my focus quickly shifted to other males within proximity of my daily interaction.

Jean Duparc was cute but he was also incredibly quiet. I couldn’t imagine spending all my time around someone who didn’t know how to speak their mind. Who didn’t raise their voice and challenge others to demand what they want. I had even piqued my interest into Nino Lahiffe. He was probably romantically interested in his own music, though. How could one person spend so long listening to the same three 8 counts on repeat? Just to “really live in that G note, dude”. I am not a “dude”.

To that effect, I didn’t want to identify as a homosexual. The term lesbian felt foreign and disgusting on my tongue. Not to say that I had anything against lesbians. I was pretty sure Juleka and Rose had something on the side they were pursuing. No, it just wasn’t a cross I was ready or willing to bear.

Chloe breezed away into another aisle and I idly followed. Watching the simple flex and curvature of her thighs and calves.

No. Chloe was different.

Comparing a goddess to an ordinary mortal is pure degradation, akin to curse words in general.

Maybe… maybe Chloe wasn’t angelic. Perhaps that was what I liked about her. The quivering feeling of being pushed around, stepped on, and utterly abused… maybe I was addicted to the feeling of knowing that Chloe was using me. The sharp way my name sounded as it left her mouth was intoxicating. Following her blindly into whatever danger she dragged me simply because she demanded it of me. The way my flesh would burn when her delicate fingers wrapped around my wrist. The pressure she applied when she wanted my attention. Demanded my attention. I loved to hand it to her. I loved the thought of waiting upon her hand and foot and being utterly abused and mistreated by her. Those icy blue eyes staring at me with contempt. Maybe I was a masochist.

I dug my manicured nails into the palms of my hands. The scraggled feeling of my thumb nail rubbing against its siblings giving me comfort. Taking away the thoughts that my abuser gave me. But…. was it abuse? I wanted nothing more than for her to scold me. I brought my thumb up to my chapped lips and gripped the free edge of my nail between my teeth, nibbling gently. My onychophagia disgusted Chloe, but part of me hoped that she would catch me. Her shiny lips would snarl and her eyes would squint at me, she would roughly yank my hand away from my lips and demand that I stop grossing her out immediately.

But I stopped of my own accord. Seeing her happy gave me more of a high than seeing her mad. Seeing her happy was more beautiful than all the times I had seen her cry.

Mascara streaming down her face and mouth curling with strangled sobs echoing around me. My heart pulsing and breaking with every tear that raced down her pink cheeks. Nothing hurt me more than seeing the woman I worshipped splintering in front of me. Begging me to tell her that what she felt was valid and okay. My thumb gently sweeping underneath her swollen eyes, wiping away tears that were useless. How I wanted nothing more than to hold her in my lap, press my face into her hair and whisper to her that I was the only one who mattered. How I would never judge her or change her or ask her to be anybody other than the girl I had fallen so hard for.

I watched her day after day meticulously apply layers of makeup and press stacks of money into the hands of professional hairdressers. She didn’t have to tell me. She was dressing up for her friends. She was dolling herself up just so that she could feel presentable. The hope that if she looked good enough people would like her. But I already liked her. I would be everything she needed. I will be everything she needs.

Prince Ali and Adrien Agreste be damned. If they were turning a blind eye to the most beautiful girl in the galaxy who am I to change their minds. All I can do is wait. Wait for her to notice that I will be here to make her smile and to feel like the goddess she deserves to be.

My hand rested upon cool metal seated on my vest, fingers tracing the outline of the intricate yet effortless design of the flower. I knew at first sight that the brooch was Gabriel Agreste, within seconds of her sliding it across the table to sit in front of me, my heart clenched in adoration. Gabriel Agreste was not cheap, and this particular design was a few years old, meaning it was out of production. Chloe had gone out of her was to find a limited edition brooch just to say that she liked having me as a friend. My fingers pinched the tips of a petal and I smiled. Things like this small gesture made my insides flutter like released butterflies. It wasn’t often that Chloe spent money on things for people other than herself.

Chloe was… complex. She needed someone who knew exactly what she wanted at all times. What she would and would not wear, or eat. What she was thinking, how she was feeling. She even needed someone who would be able to tell what she was thinking and how it was affecting her. I was that person. I had grown and trained for years to be that person. To be exactly what she needed and desired. She could continue to chase after these pointless, ignorant striplings but when it finally came down to it and she wanted to see exactly who would settle down and remain with her for the rest of her beautiful life, I would be here. She only needed to look directly beside her, and I would never leave her side. Because as much as I could deny it, or try to find any other explanation I never would.

Because I was head over heels in love with Chloe Bourgeois.

“That looks amazing on you, Chloe!”

“Shut up, Sabrina, I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please submit feedback, I'd love to know what y'all thought of it!  
> NekoPanda signing off!


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